Unnerved by the darkening shadows and what I’d just witnessed, I left the alley for the nearby street before reporting the incident to the sheriff’s department. After ending the call, I finally made my way home, where Flapjack greeted me, winding around my ankles as I locked the front door behind me.
“What have you been up to, Jack?” I asked the tabby as I scooped him up into my arms.
The only reply I got was a contented purr.
“I’m betting your evening was far less eventful than mine.”
I set Flapjack on the floor and he scampered down the hall toward the back of the house. He paused to look back at me before disappearing into the family room. Getting the message, I kicked off my flip-flops and followed him. When I caught up to the tabby, he was sitting next to a cupboard, his eyes fixed on the door. I opened the cupboard and fished out the toy that shared the space with the vacuum cleaner.
A little stuffed bird with a tail made of feathers hung from a string tied to a plastic wand. As soon as I had the fake birdie out of the cupboard, Flapjack took a leap at it, swatting it with his paw. I walked around the family room, swinging the toy while Flapjack jumped and rolled and batted away at the bird with his paws. Eventually he grew tired and flopped down next to the couch. As I tucked the toy away in the cupboard, someone knocked on the front door.
Leaving Flapjack to catch his breath, I hurried down the hall and opened the door to find Deputy Kyle Rutowski standing on the porch.
“Evening, Marley. I understand you reported a prowler at the Winkler place.”
“Yes.” I stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come on in.”
Rutowski declined my offer of tea or coffee as he followed me to the family room. He spent a moment greeting Flapjack, but then took the seat I offered him in an armchair. I sat on the couch across from him, tucking my legs up underneath me.
“I just wanted to go over a few details with you,” Rutowski said, opening a small notebook. “The prowler was a man?”
“Yes, I’m certain of that.”
“And you’re also certain he was on Ms. Winkler’s property?”
“Definitely. He was climbing over the fence, from the yard to the alleyway. I was just on my way home from visiting someone in the neighborhood.”
“Are you able to describe the man?”
I hesitated, wondering if I should tell him who I thought the prowler was. After only a second of consideration, I decided that I should.
“He was wearing sunglasses and it was getting dark, so I didn’t have a perfect view of him, but my impression was that he looked like Mitch Paulson.”
Rutowski’s forehead furrowed. “Mr. Paulson, from the bank here in Wildwood Cove?”
“That’s right.”
“You said it was your impression that he looked like Mr. Paulson. Are you saying it was someone who looks similar to him or you think it actually was him?”
I hesitated again. “I’m pretty sure it was him, but the man was wearing a baseball cap, so I couldn’t tell if he was bald like Mr. Paulson is. I guess it could have been someone who looks a lot like him.”
Rutowski was silent as he wrote something in his notebook. Once he’d finished writing, he looked up again. “Can you tell me anything about the baseball cap? The color? Did it have a logo?”
“It was a dark color. Maybe blue or black. I didn’t notice a logo.”
As Rutowski made another note in his book, I mentally kicked myself for not getting a better look at the man. But then again, I hadn’t had much of a chance to study him in detail.
“What else can you tell me?” Rutowski asked.
“Not much,” I said with regret. “He was wearing dark clothing, but that’s about all I noticed. I only saw him for a second or two.”
“I understand. We appreciate you reporting the incident.”
Rutowski got to his feet and I followed suit.
“Apparently there was a prowler in the alley the night before Ida’s death, too,” I said.
The deputy’s forehead furrowed again. “You were there that evening as well?”
“No,” I said quickly, not wanting to strengthen whatever suspicions he and his colleagues might have about me. “I heard about it from the woman who lives across the alley from Ida, Joan Crenshaw. I told her she should report it, and she said she’d get in touch with you guys in the morning.”
“Thank you. We’ll see what she has to say.”
I walked Rutowski to the door. “Joan mentioned that she saw a heavyset man. I wouldn’t describe the man I saw tonight as heavyset, so it sounds like there were two different prowlers. Doesn’t that seem unusual?”
“It does.” Rutowski opened the front door and paused. “But it may or may not mean anything. We’ll look into it, of course, but it’s best for you to keep yourself out of the investigation as much as possible.”
I wanted to protest against the mild reprimand, but I didn’t get a chance. Rutowski was already stepping out of the house.
“Thanks for your help, Marley,” he said before descending the porch stairs.
I watched him climb into his cruiser before I shut the door, shrugging off his suggestion that I was interfering and thinking about his other words instead.
While there was possibly no significance to the fact that there’d been two prowlers interested in Ida’s place in the last few days, I highly doubted that was the case. A woman had been murdered, and two men had taken to skulking around her property. They had to be up to something sneaky. But the real question was, had one of them murdered Ida?
I wanted to call Brett before going to sleep, but when I saw the time I decided it was too late. He’d sent me a text earlier in the evening though, as I found out when I checked my phone. His message said that the vet had taken X-rays of Bentley’s leg and had confirmed that it was indeed broken. Bentley was scheduled to undergo surgery to repair the fracture the following day.
My thoughts stayed with the injured dog as I got ready for bed. I hoped he’d make a full recovery and that if he had good, kind owners out there missing him, the vet would be able to track them down. If he didn’t have a good home already, hopefully one would be found for him. For a second or two, I considered the possibility of adopting him myself, but I quickly realized that might not be the best option. Aside from the fact that I didn’t know how Flapjack would react to a canine housemate, I was often at work for nine to ten hours at a time. While it wouldn’t be impossible to take breaks away from The Flip Side to check in on him and let him outside now and then, it might not be the best arrangement.
Although worried about Bentley and preoccupied by all I’d learned that evening, I tried to clear my mind of all thoughts once I went to bed. It took a while, but eventually sleep embraced me, and I woke the next morning ready to face another day.
During my walk to The Flip Side, I thought back to my visit to the Haynes house the previous evening. When I’d asked Melinda why she’d been upset with Ida, she’d clammed right up. Sure, she hadn’t been particularly open or talkative to begin with, but she definitely hadn’t wanted to share that bit of information, and I couldn’t help but wonder why that was the case.
Although I barely knew her, I doubted she was the type to be easily embarrassed by a public outburst, especially since—according to what I’d heard about her—the one on Ida’s porch had been far from her first tantrum out in the open. So maybe she thought her dispute with Ida would make her seem suspicious. Had it been something serious enough to make her want to kill Ida? I didn’t doubt that the sheriff or his deputies had questioned Melinda about the incident, but I didn’t know how much more forthcoming she would have been with them than she was with me. Besides, that wasn’t information Ray or his colleagues would likely share with me.
After I’d stopped by the kitchen to say good morning to Ivan and Tommy, I set to work preparing for the day’s customers. Before long, Leigh arrived, and Sienna showed up moments later, vivid magenta streaks in her trimmed hair. Leigh and I didn’t have long to admire her new hair color, however, because within minutes the first customers of the day appeared. The Sunday brunch crowd kept us all busy, and it wasn’t until nearly closing time that the stream of hungry townsfolk and tourists slowed to a trickle.
“Do you have anything planned for the rest of the day?” I asked Leigh after I’d waved goodbye to a departing family of five.
“I’m taking the kids to the strawberry tea at the Anglican church. Then we’re going to spend a few minutes at the flower show.”
“I used to love going to those teas,” Sienna piped up as she passed us with an empty coffeepot in hand. “The church ladies make the most amazing marzipan strawberries.”
“They really do,” Leigh agreed as Sienna disappeared into the kitchen. “Delicious. You should come, Marley, if you have the time.”
“Maybe I will,” I said.
As much as I loved relaxing on the beach after work, it would be nice to do something a little different.
“It starts at two, but they keep serving until four thirty,” Leigh added before crossing the room to wipe down a newly vacated table.
Sometimes I didn’t leave The Flip Side until four, but I figured I could probably manage to get away earlier. The last customers of the day left the pancake house, and when Sienna emerged from the kitchen a moment later, I put a hand on her arm to stop her progress. Leigh was still across the room, out of earshot.
“How did things go with Gavin the other day?” It was the first chance I’d had to speak to her alone since I’d met her outside the bakery.
To my surprise, Sienna rolled her eyes.
“First and last date all in one go,” she said.
“How come?” I asked, worried about what Gavin might have done.
“It was boring. All he wanted to talk about was his plan to go to med school. And he said he was too busy to stay at the beach for more than half an hour. Apparently he’s lined up a bunch of odd jobs while he’s in town.” She rolled her eyes again. “Then his mom texted him and he left after only hanging out on the beach for twenty minutes. He’s definitely not as dreamy as I thought.”
Leigh joined us then and I changed the subject, relieved that Gavin hadn’t done anything worse than bore Sienna. When both waitresses had left, I hurried through my routine of cleaning up the restaurant. The pancake house was closed on Monday and Tuesday each week, but I wanted to make sure everything was shipshape and ready for Wednesday morning. By the time I’d finished, the clock on the wall was ticking toward three o’clock. I said a quick goodbye to Ivan and Tommy, and then headed home to check in on Flapjack and change my clothes.
On my way upstairs to find something to wear to the tea, I tried calling Brett. He didn’t work on Sundays so I was hoping he’d answer his phone, and he did. I smiled as soon as he said hello, realizing that twenty-four hours was far longer than I liked to go without at least hearing his voice.
“Any more news about Bentley?” I asked as I opened my closet.
“Not so far,” Brett replied. “The vet said she’d call me once he’s out of surgery, to let me know how things went. I’d like to stop in to visit him, but the vet said it would probably be best to wait until tomorrow to do that.”
I pushed hangers aside as I went through the clothes in my closet. “What about his owners? Any information there?”
“No. He doesn’t have a microchip, so there’s no way to contact his owners. The vet thinks he was on his own for a while. His leg had been broken for a few days at least.”
“Poor thing.” My heart ached to think of the dog limping around on a broken leg for that long. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“If they can’t track down his owners, or if he can’t be returned to his owners, I’d like to adopt him.”
My face lit up. “You would?”
“I’ve been thinking about getting a dog for a while. I always had dogs growing up and I miss having one around. I’d love to bring Bentley home.”
“That’s great, Brett. I think it’s a perfect idea.”
“So do I, but I can’t get my hopes up too high. Legally, there’s a holding period of seventy-two hours before a stray animal can be adopted out, and sometimes they’re held longer. He’s going to have to stay at the clinic for a while anyway, but I won’t know what’s going to happen for several days.”
I tugged a fluttery, blue-and-white sundress from its hanger. “Well, if he doesn’t already have a good home, you’ll give him a great one.”
“Is it terrible of me to hope it turns out that way?”
“Of course not. He’s a lovely dog. It’s understandable that you’re hoping for the chance to adopt him.” The sundress over one arm, I sat down on my bed. Although I’d intended to go to the tea at the church, I realized I’d rather spend my afternoon with Brett, despite the anxiety that had plagued me lately when I thought about our relationship. “What are you up to today?”
“I’m in Port Townsend. I just helped my mom and Gwen pack up after showing their art at a festival earlier today and now I’m about to head over to a buddy’s place. He and his wife invited me for dinner.”
“That sounds nice.” I managed to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
He asked about my plans and I told him about the tea.
“Have a good time,” he said. “I hear the food’s always delicious.”
I bit down on my lower lip for a second. “Brett?”
“Yes?”
I hesitated, unsure of what I wanted to say. That I missed him? That I was crazy about him, but terrified for some reason I couldn’t pinpoint?
All that and more, but I heard a car door shut on the other end of the line and realized that he’d probably climbed into his truck, ready to head to his friend’s place.
“Marley? Is everything all right?”
I forced my voice to sound normal. “Everything’s fine. Will I get to see you soon?”
“I hope so. Tomorrow, if at all possible.”
“Okay. Enjoy the rest of the day.”
“You too.”
When I ended the call, I had a sudden desire to curl up with a good book and hide away from the world for the rest of the day. I wasn’t sure that would be the best thing for me though. More likely than not, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the fictional story, my mind instead going around and around, fixating on the very real situation of Ida’s murder and my personal life.
Knowing it would be better to go socialize for a while, I quickly changed into the sundress and slipped my feet into a pair of sandals. Since the sun was beating down, making the day much warmer than was normal for the middle of June, I decided to drive across town to the tea. I had to park half a block away from the picturesque white church and wondered if there’d be room for me inside. Judging by the number of cars lining the curbs, the church tea was a popular event.
Leaving the air-conditioned interior of my car, I followed handmade signs to an exterior stairwell that led down to the church’s basement. At the bottom of the concrete steps, the door stood open, another sign directing tea-goers into the building. As I descended the stairs, a hushed and furtive female voice floated out the door.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” the woman said, “but at least our troubles are over now.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” a man’s voice said in response, sounding none too happy.
His female companion spoke again. “But with that woman gone, everything will be fine.”
The man lowered his voice, so I couldn’t hear what he said to that.
With my sleuth’s antenna on alert, I stepped into the doorway.
Compared to the bright, sunny outdoors, the church’s interior seemed dim and shadowy. Although I couldn’t see much at first, I did notice the startled movements of the two people standing a few feet away from me. I blinked, and as my eyes adjusted to the change in lighting, more details began to emerge. While the two people hurried away, out of what I now saw was a small anteroom and into the main room of the church’s basement, I caught enough of a glimpse to know that I didn’t recognize the dark-haired woman. But I definitely recognized the bald bank manager, Mitch Paulson.